Statue of Limitations
by redwolffclaw
Summary: Shawn and Gus are investigating the disappearance of multiple psychics in the area as a sinister force unlike anything they'd ever encountered stalks them. They're about to get some unlikely help from a time lord and his companion to stop one of the most sadistic creatures in the universe from completing its diabolical plan. Psych/Dr. Who Crossover
1. Chapter 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

**Written for Moondragon23 for her Christmas Present. The Dr. Who fan that she is. :D **

**This story takes place in early season 7 Psych, before Cirque Du Freak. **

**It takes place in mid Series 4 of Dr. Who, the 10th Doctor.**

**I do not own Psych or Dr. Who.**

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><p>It was mid morning in Santa Barbara, the sun was shining, birds were singing, and fake psychic detective Shawn Spencer stood outside the Psych office. He was currently leering at the front page of the freshly delivered Santa Barbara News Press, getting more and more pissed off the further he read. It was obvious that he hadn't been sleeping well, and the bags under his eyes were getting bigger every day, after every failure to solve their most recent case.<p>

Before storming back into the office he happened to glance across to the park across from their back door. He noticed that the city had put up a new statue. It had to be new because it definitely wasn't there the day before. It was weird, but he didn't linger too long on the oddness of it, because there were bigger fish to fry. Much bigger.

He walked up to his partner Burton Guster's desk and slammed the paper down, before retreating to his own desk.

The paper's headline read, 'Fifth California Psychic Goes Missing.'

"There's another one Gus. Just happened yesterday. They're dropping like flies and I can't find a stinking thing to help!" The latest one was Miss Ivana, the psychic he visited a few months before when looking for a murdering coroner. It was right in town and that was hitting way too close to home for him.

"Shawn, you're going to kill yourself with this case." Gus warned as he sat down at his desk and looked at the paper. "You've been all over the first four and it's like they've completely disappeared."

The psychic did his best not to bite Gus, head off. Mostly because he was right. They'd been on the case for a month already, just after the third psychic went missing. And _missing_ they were. There were no signs of them anywhere. No one saw them, they left all their belongings, and haven't contacted any friends or relatives since their disappearance. The police suspected foul play, because people who just run off tend to leave some sort of trail.

"You know, it wouldn't be so hard if those guys had been more original, and _hadn't _recycled names thousands of years ago! It's hard enough looking for one person." Shawn sat down with a pout. Most of their legwork and online searching had been coming up with so many mixed results between the modern and historical psychics with the exact same stage name, it was taking a while to get any leads.

Gus rolled his eyes. "1850 isn't a thousand years ago, but I see your point. It does seem that your competition hasn't been very original when coming up with their monikers."

"The problem is Gus, that I see things, and put things together." Shawn had his hands spread apart, and clapped them, illustrating his point. "When there are _no things_ for me to put together, I get _no-thing_."

Opening his laptop, Gus asked, "What about the police? Do they have any leads they haven't been sharing?"

Shawn shook his head. "I haven't seen anything more than what we've been finding. I even looked through Lassie's reports when he was in the bathroom. They're running into the same roadblock we are. Historical figures with the same name and _amazing _track records, but no connection to the missing people and they'd died years before any of the missing were even born."

"Tsk, man!" Gus exclaimed and he turned the laptop towards Shawn. "Look, that latest one too! Maybe that's the pattern. We need to look for psychics who've taken their name from someone else."

"Maybe." Shawn sighed. "We'll have to run it by Jules and Lassie, see what they think."

"Shawn, you're missing something else that's important." Gus said hesitantly.

Shawn turned towards him, "What?"

"They're _psychics_, Shawn. All of them. Real or not they were running professional psychic businesses, and now they're missing. You need to be careful too. I don't want your name on one of these headlines you know." Gus emphasized it with a tap at the paper.

To tell the truth, Shawn was incredibly freaked out that he could be next, and had been on high alert once they realized what was happening. However, he didn't want Gus to worry about him too much, so he played it off. "Gus, don't be a beached hippopotamus. I'll be fine. My best friend is a detective, my girlfriend is a cop, and my father is a retired cop. No one in their right mind would target _me_."

Shawn almost tried to make himself believe his own words, but he was as skeptical as the look Gus was giving him. There was no knowing who was next, and it very well could be him. That's why he has to solve this case.

A knock at the front door interrupted their argument, and Shawn went to go answer it. He swung open the door and a young man in a FedEx uniform had a small envelope with them. "Oh, man. I didn't think anyone was really going to be here. That's spooky."

"Well, you _are_ at a Psychic Detective's office. Spooky things are bound to happen. What do you have for me?" Shawn glanced at the letter.

"That's what's spooky man. Some psychic from like the 1800's wanted us to deliver a telegram to this address today. It's been sitting in storage for like, a hundred years or something."

Shawn looked at the kid like he'd grown two heads and tsked skeptically. "Right. Just let me have that and you can go tell your buddies that you had a laugh at my expense." He'd had weirder deliveries before. Most were Yin and/or Yang associated, but people found it funny to mess with a psychic once and a while.

"But−" The young man started, but Shawn didn't let him finish. He grabbed the letter and closed the door in the man's face. He then put the envelope on the counter, ignoring it.

"What was that about?" Gus asked curiously, eyeing the letter.

"Just some guy who'd seen Back to the Future too many times. Says the letter is from a psychic in the 1800's."

Gus started at him for a moment, before his eyes narrowed. "So, let me get this straight. We're on a case, where there are missing psychics, with the same name of psychics _from _the 1800s and you all of a sudden get a letter from a psychic _in_ the 1800's... and you _don't_ open it!? Dude, you've got problems."

Before Shawn could react, Gus had already snatched up the letter and started to read it. "What? Does it say Doc Brown is alive and well in the wild west? Does he know any of my ancestors? Tell him to send me a hover board."

"Hover boards are from the _future _Shawn, and no, Doc Brown isn't in the past." Gus said as he stared at the paper. "But it looks like Miss Ivana _is._"

Shawn gaped as Gus held up an old, faded photograph with none other than the missing psychic on it. Even stranger, was the writing on the back of it.

**Shawn Spencer,**

** Watch for angels.**

** Trust your doctor.**

** -Miss Ivana 1866**

"No. No no no! This is not happening!" Shawn exclaimed and stood up. "This has to be a prank."

"Shawn, the inner envelope is postmarked 1866. You can't fake that. Besides, it would be a federal crime."

"Maybe she found an old envelope." Shawn tried to rationalize, but then a horrible thought came to him and he pointed at the words on the back of the photo. "Gus, she predicted Chip's death. Do you think that inscription means I'm gonna die?" He started breathing harder, and suddenly wished Gus had let him put in that panic room last year.

"Alright, just calm down. We have to get this to the cops. Maybe they'll have an explanation."

Shawn nodded quickly. Gus was right, maybe they would have some clue as to why a modern psychic was writing to him about angels from over 150 years ago. "Yeah, okay. Let's get this to them."

"C'mon Shawn. I'll drive." Shawn figured he must have looked pretty shaken up for Gus to be talking to him like that.

After closing and locking up the office, Shawn was just about to get into the car when the statue once again caught his eye. The statue was one of those classic winged women that were popular at cemeteries. Her face was hidden in her hands, and it looked as if she was crying. Further down, clutching the larger angel's robe, hiding it's face in its tresses, was a younger, cherub looking angel. It was a strange one to have in a park, and it didn't fit with any of the other stonework.

For a terrible moment he remembered Ivana's warning: 'Watch for angels' but it couldn't have been as straight forward as that. She was a psychic for crying out loud. Her whole profession was based on ambiguity. Besides, they were large, stone statues. It would have taken city workers hours to put them there.

_Shawn, you're becoming paranoid._ He could almost hear his father's accusing voice.

"Shawn, you coming?" Gus asked, his voice muffled from his position in the Blueberry.

"Yeah buddy." He said sliding into the passenger's seat and taking one last look at the statues. "Let's go."


	2. Chapter 2

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: So sorry for the late update everyone. I realized I bit off more than I could chew as soon as I posted the first chapter and spent the last two months crash coursing in Dr. Who lore. :)**

**I hope everyone likes it.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2-<strong>

Floating somewhere in time and space, a thin, young man with unruly brown hair wearing a pin stripe suit, ran frantically around a center console with flashing lights and protruding handles. He yanked random toggles and pressed a few of the buttons to stabilize the inside of the big/yet small time machine aptly named TARDIS.

Beside him was a vaguely worried, but slightly smug woman with bright red hair. "Did we get away?" She asked in a British accent, her brow furrowed as she watched him scamper from one doodad to another.

After pulling a particularly large lever, the man people called The Doctor seemed to relax. "I think we lost em Donna." He drawled in his own British accent as he grinned wildly at the thrill of being chased and out smarting their pursuers.

Donna, also seemed to relax and slouched into a nearby crook. "Thank God for that. Who in their right mind would want to burn you at the stake for having olives on a pizza? I mean, what kind of civilization would make that a taboo offense?!" The indignant tone in his companion's voice made him want to laugh.

"You'd be surprised." The Doctor replied, straightening his tie. "I've almost been killed because of loads of things, and some of them..." He paused thinking, "_Well,_ most of them would be considered pretty strange." That earned a chuckle from the red head and she leaned farther back, closing her eyes for a moment.

Suddenly, The Doctor's face went slack in confusion and he reached in a couple pockets before pulling out a leather wallet. Inside was a piece of usually blank paper that allowed The Doctor to infiltrate as whoever he wanted, as long as it was somewhat believable. It was called "Psychic Paper" and had come in handy many times in his current incarnation.

Weirdly, the paper didn't seem to be all that blank this time. On it was odd calligraphic writing. It wasn't necessarily the writing itself that was odd though. What _was _odd was that someone would be able to project an image onto the paper without being in close proximity. Last time he checked they were the only people within a million miles. The sender had to be someone with a lot of psychic ability.

_It must be important too if they went through all this trouble to contact me._

**Doctor,**

** Can't hold the connection for long. **

**I've been touched by an angel, and more people are in danger. Find it, stop it...help him in Santa Barbara.**

"_Angels..._" The Doctor growled out as he put the psychic paper back in his right breast pocket. "Why did it have to be Angels." He briefly contemplated just skipping over the whole thing. The last time was enough.

"What do you mean by angels?" Donna asked, confused by his sudden change in tone. "You mean like robed, winged, messengers from God or something?"

The Doctor shook his head. "No. I mean like _stone_ robed, winged, sociopaths who eat potential energy."

Donna took a moment to take all of that in. "So, they're bad then?"

"Very bad. Ran into a couple of them a while back. Sent Martha and I to 1969. She had to get a real job."

"I bet she loved that." Donna replied sarcastically with a snort. "Is that all they did, send you back in time? I thought you'd be used to that by now, with this box and all." The Doctor gave her a sour look. The angels were no joking matter. Catching his drift, Donna tried to get with the program. "Okay, so your psychic paper thingy is warning us about these 'Weeping Angels.' Well that's easy, let's avoid them."

"It's not that simple. Weeping Angels tend to cause massive amounts of damage to time. Paradoxes, missing people." He explained solemnly. "If my little piece of paper is picking that up, it must be really bad."

Donna looked over his shoulder at the fading writing. "It says 'help him.' Help who exactly?"

"I have no idea...Wait!" Getting an idea, The Doctor headed back to the console. "Alright, all I have to do is look for time anomalies in Santa Barbara aaaaaand..." He didn't even have to look hard. One point in history lit up brighter than a beacon. "Well, there it is. Santa Barbara, California, 2012. Just before the time stream goes kablooey."

Ignoring half of what he said, Donna gasped, "You mean we're going to California? Not Mount Everest or a planet where people grow five arms... but CALIFORNIA?!" She brought her hands up and practically squealed in delight. "OOOOooo! I'm gonna sunbathe and swim in the ocean without freezing my bum off!"

The Doctor smiled at her reaction. He hated to burst her bubble and liked it when his companions had fun, but they had to get down to business. Lives were literally at stake. "Uh, Donna. Time zapping angels take precedence over the ocean and sunbathing I'm afraid."

"Oh, right." Her face fell. "Way to kill the moment Spaceman."

He figured she was just acting that way to make him feel guilty.. After all, _she_ was the one who had gone looking for _him_ and had many of her own investigations and adventures. She knew full well the consequences if they didn't intervene immediately.

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><p>Carlton rubbed his face tiredly, taking his eyes away from the evidence in front of him for just a moment. He needed sleep, but it seemed that whoever was kidnapping the psychics in the area had stepped up their game, and hit closer to home. But, as any good cop could tell you, exhausting yourself doesn't help anything. Unfortunately despite being a good cop, he just never could buy into that wisdom, hence the large bags under his eyes and the reason all the younger officers were avoiding him.<p>

"Carlton, come look at this." Juliet said from two desks away. "The latest person to go missing shares a name too."

He didn't particularly care to look. It was a nothing lead, all of them were. After the third one that fit the pattern got taken, they'd scoured every single psychic's name into the database, and came up empty. It was almost as if the person in the past didn't exist until the one in the present went missing. Which was impossible. "O'Hara stop it. Those are dead ends, literally. I don't need you running after people who died a hundred years ago. Spencer is doing that enough lately, and is starting to look like the walking dead himself."

Juliet frowned. "Carlton, he's trying."

"At the rate these psychics are going missing he shouldn't be trying, he should be in witness protection." The detective knew he'd said the wrong thing instantly as his partner's face went crestfallen. He did his best to recover, "Well, I'm sure he'll be fine..."

She held up a hand, "You know what, you're right."

"I am?"

"Yeah. I mean, how many psychics are there in the area? Dozens right? Just because Shawn's one of them doesn't mean he's targeted." He could tell that Juliet was trying to make herself feel better, and he wasn't going to ruin it by telling her that it _does_ make him a target. A huge one.

It was just his luck that both Shawn and Gus took that moment to rush in the door and make a B-Line right for them. "Great." he grumbled and faced the apparently panicked duo.

"Jules! Lassie! I think I'm being targeted!" Shawn wailed loudly, causing half the station to look their way, and his partner's face to pale considerably.

Carlton stood addressing Shawn and his wild proclamations, even if he had been making the same ones just moments earlier. He didn't want his partner's boyfriend any more worked up than he already was. "Come off it Spencer. You have no proof that anyone is even taking anyone, let alone wanting to take _you_."

Shawn reached into his pocket and pulled out a faded photograph. "Oh yes I do."

The detective grabbed it out of Shawn's hand and scrutinized it. A casual observer could have said it looked like one of those faked old photographs you can get at fairs, the ones where they have you dress up in old clothing and take the pictures in sepia. However, growing up in Old Sonora he became almost became an expert at telling the fakes that Sheriff Hank handed out to the tourists, and the actual pictures lining his mentor's office. The photo, he hated to admit, looked legit. Even more concerning was the fact that the woman in the picture, with long wavy dark blond hair, looked exactly like their newest missing person Claudia Mason, aka: Miss Ivana.

"Carlton," Juliet jumped in before he could comment and he gave her the photo. "This looks pretty real." She turned over the picture and read the back. "Why would someone send you a message about seeing a doctor, Shawn?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. I only met her the once." He grinned like an idiot. "I must have made an impression on her... Oomf!" Shawn grunted as an elbow hit his side. Surprisingly it was his partner and not Gus that landed the blow. "Ow! I'm saying psychically speaking! God..."

Carlton took the picture back from his partner. "Let's get this down to the lab. Maybe they'll come up with something that actually makes sense besides the fact that a psychic from the past is telling you to see a doctor." Hell, he thought Shawn needed to see a doctor years ago.

"Does this mean you believe I'm in danger Lassie?" Shawn almost looked hopeful at the prospect.

The lanky man stopped in his tracks and turned around. "No, it means that I'm going to be the fly on the wall when an expert tells you you've been duped."

Anger, quickly hidden flashed on both Shawn and Gus features, though the latter didn't hide his quite as quickly. Carlton felt a little bad for the snipe and started to think they may actually be taking a case seriously. For once.

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><p>The undulating grind noise that signaled the arrival of the TARDIS at their destination, seemed to be missed completely on the busy Santa Barbara boardwalk. People walked hurriedly past, doing their best to get out of the adverse weather conditions. Donna, decked out in a blue sundress and sunglasses practically flounced out of the ersatz police box's door with her arms wide open and a huge grin on her face.<p>

"_Finally_ some nice sunny..." She pouted as the rain started to soak her clothes. "weather."

Having thought ahead, The Doctor leaned out and presented an umbrella. "Sorry. The rain is supposed to let up in a bit." He looked around nostalgically. "You know, I haven't been to California in years." He paused and considered his words. "Well, before it falls into the ocean anyway."

"What?!" Donna exclaimed horrified.

"Oh don't worry." The Doctor waved off her concern. "It won't happen for at least eight thousand years."

Donna stared at him flabbergasted for a moment, before swiping the umbrella out of his still outstretched hand. "Are their any more natural disasters that you want to tell me about that will kill millions?"

Making a face, The Doctor declared, "Oh, don't be so dramatic, people were long gone before the ground gave way..." He trailed off and started heading for the main drag, making sure to keep note of which alley he'd parked in and started down the street. He needed to find a newspaper, and fast. It was usually the best way to figure out the date, and what had been happening in the area. With Weeping Angels, the missing person section would be chalk full depending on how many were around and what their devious plans were.

Donna hurried to catch up with her companion's long legs. "So these Angels, what exactly are we looking for? You said winged and robed, is that it?"

Stopping, The Doctor sighed. He didn't want to go rushing in with his companion unprepared so he relented. "Alright Donna, I'm gonna give you Weeping Angel 101, okay?" She nodded enthusiastically and he continued as they walked, "They're stone statues, as long as you can see them. It's when you _can't_ see them that they become one of the most dangerous creatures in existence. They can send you back in time with a touch, they are incredibly fast, strong, and sadistic. They always have an ulterior motive which is why I need to figure out what the hell they're doing in town."

A moment later, The Doctor found what he was looking for; A newspaper kiosk.

He groaned at the headline which read, 'Fifth California Psychic Goes Missing.'

"Well, at least we know why my psychic paper picked things up. There must have been one powerful psychic in the bunch." Looking around to make sure no one was watching, The Doctor took out a metallic wand he dubbed his 'Sonic Screwdriver' and pointed it at the coin slot. Immediately the lever clicked open and Donna grabbed the paper, skimming it.

"It says here the police are still looking into leads. Doubt they'll blame stone angels oi?" She laughed, knowing full well how stubborn people are when they don't know about time travelers and aliens. Humans tend to be very hard headed when their beliefs were challenged. "So, do we go looking for the angels, or see what the police know."

"The Weeping Angels know about me, and I don't want them to know I'm in town just yet." Putting his hands on his hips, The Doctor made a decision. "I say let's see what the local authorities have and go from there. They must have figured out a pattern by now, and we need more information anyway."

Donna nodded, approving of the plan. "Right then. If I'm going to be official, I might want to change clothes." She pointed at her sun dress, that was sticking to her skin from the moisture in the air.

The Doctor tried really hard not to smile at how silly she looked and gestured towards the alley the TARDIS rested in. "After you."

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><p>On a multi-arched building across the street labeled 'The Bank of Santa Barbara,' a small statue of a man watched the two time travelers walk down the street. It opened its mouth, alerting the master to the trouble that the man known as The Doctor would bring. They didn't need someone getting wise to their plans, especially since they were so close to being finished.<p> 


End file.
